Singer
by RosalYuvan
Summary: The anthology of one reincarnating spirit and their occasional misadventures with the one they sing for.


Ester stared piteously at the state of her killer. He'd stolen three of her lives before this one - utterly untouchable - yet now he lay in rusted alchemical chains, slowly withering from starvation and werewolf poison. Aris, Theodora, Gaston - she enjoyed the hands she was dealt in those lifetimes, only to have them cut short by this demon in disguise.

"You won't die like this, will you?" she asked him. "I didn't die thrice over so you could crumble like this. I wanted to stake you at least once before you died."

She anticipated a snarl - not this loathsome stare of... _hopelessness._ Surrender!

"I don't know you."

Ester resisted the urge to scream her frustrations. "Greece," she began, "England, France - you _slaughtered _me in each of those countries, a century apart. _You remember!"_

Dull red eyes blinked at her. The blonde's head lulled to the side, resting against his shackled arm as though thinking struck a pick through his skull. Could vampires be delirious? This would be as close as she would ever get to seeing such a state.

"You killed me," she repeated, "and you called me a blood singer."

His muscles twitched in recognition; the memory of her blood was enough to spark the life back into him. "They," Caius muttered, "couldn't believe I'd found my singer _so _many times..." The ghost of a smirk - finally, something familiar - made its appearance on his pallor face. "Some go their entire lives without even smelling such a treat."

"Focus," she ordered. Though his head was still lolling, Caius' eyes were trained on her. "If you want out, you must listen to me."

"I listen to no one," he growled lowly, "especially not a human wench."

Ester continued anyway. "Four days from now, the Volturi will come to retrieve you. However, the werewolf venom in your body will have already destroyed you by that point."

Snarling, the vampire jerked forward viciously. "You and this clan will be destroyed. They will make sure of that!"

"And you won't be around to see it happen unless you _listen!"_ Inhaling sharply, Ester's ears twitched, searching for any sounds in the hall... still nothing. "There is only one cure for werewolf venom and yours is _standing _right in front of you."

"Blackmail, then?" he demanded callously. "I won't negotiate with _filth_."

"We _aren't _negotiating, vampire," sneered Ester. "I am telling you exactly what will happen before the raid;an hour before the Volturi's assault the wolves will recall all available men to guard the perimeter and prepare for your clan's arrival. By that point, you will be in a near catatonic state and your only hope of revival will be my blood. With the guards gone, I will return and allow you to kill me so that you may join your coven with your mind in tact."

The blood of a singer had special properties to their corresponding vampires. That is what the Alchemist said: advanced healing, increased senses, strength, and speed, in addition to unparalleled blood lust. For Ester, healing, there was no point in only giving the vampire a small dose; one taste and he would tear her in two just to get it.

Caius was confounded. "Are you mad?" he asked. "Why? You have nothing to gain. If all you receive from this is death, why bother?"

"I'm sure you know of the raids this clan partakes in during the day," Ester whispered, eyes darkening as she spoke. "They are beasts, regardless of the moonlight. The women and children they keep from the villages they ransack are locked in the cellar and..." The silence spoke for her. "I am siding with the lesser of two evils."

"And if we kill them?"

"Then do so out of mercy," her voice threatened to tremble under the weight of Fear - terrified of the innocent lives she was dooming. "The least you can do then is pray their next lives are kinder. I won't die knowing they will be kept down there."

Crimson eyes steadied themselves on her face. Her expression was that of guilt; she thought it was despicable. Those people deserved to live. They deserved to rejoice in the sun and laugh by the fire and hold their loved ones close knowing they were safe from the beasts bumping in the night. Yet, she stood here before a damnable creature, laying their fates in his pallor grasp.

At last, he said, "You humans are so naive."

"You were human once, too," she griped. "I doubt you grew up in Acropolis drinking blood." A low growl rumbled in his chest, daring her to continue. "I will be back in four days. Try not to lose your mind before then."

"I am not like lesser men," he scoffed. "The mutts won't be alive long enough to realize their mistake."

For now, that was all she could hope for.

* * *

The following is a long winded collection of stories surrounding the Singer. There is no order I plan to publish these snippets in, but with any luck, you will gain some semblance of my little character and the relationships developing between them and those they will (eventually) interact with.


End file.
